


the predestination factor(solve for r)

by twistedsky



Series: the theory of averages and outliers [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern soulmate AU with a Librarians/Agents of SHIELD bit of a twist.  In one bright, flashing moment, Clarke discovers her soulmate. She has a decision to make--act off of this information and follow the path destiny has laid out for her, or turn away from it and forge her own path. In both universes she follows her heart, but in this one it's fated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the predestination factor(solve for r)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flyingthesky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingthesky/gifts).



> This is part of a two-part set of fics in which Clarke faces destiny. In mine, she chooses Raven, and in my friend's, she'll choose Bellamy. Hers should be up July 25th, if you're interested. 
> 
> I own nothing here, except all of my mistakes. The idea of the Annex is entirely taken from the idea of the cool Library annex on The Librarians.
> 
> Slightly mentioned pairings include Lincoln/Octavia, Monty/Nathan, and mostly past-Finn/Raven.
> 
> Warnings for some alcohol drinking, some violence, a little bit of hospital time, and medical experimentation on humans.

Raven isn’t actually paying attention when Clarke decides to pick up the damn riot and chaos-causing orb.

This entire thing could end in blood and death because Clarke decides to grab the magical artifact, but Raven doesn’t even realize that, because she’s too busy ignoring a call from her sometimes on again, sometimes off again boyfriend Finn.

Maybe that’s some kind of sign.

She vaguely hears someone cursing up a storm, but that’s nothing new, because her team members are ridiculous, okay? Arguing and name-calling, and general childishness are kind of a given.

She’s not proud to admit that she’s often part of all of that, but she also doesn’t really care.

The hyena-like, almost terrifying laughter that spills out of Clarke’s mouth is what makes Raven look up sharply.

Clarke’s not really the scary laughter type. So, just for a moment, Raven is worried that Clarke has been infected by whatever kind of fresh hell the little crystal ball creates. A thread of panic shoots through her, but then Clarke drops the orb in one of the neutralizing bags they developed for the funkier sorts of objects they come across.

The laughter cuts out very suddenly, and Clarke looks down at the orb in the bag, and Raven is struck by how stunned she looks.

Clarke keeps sneaking looks at Lincoln and Octavia, and then Bellamy. She studiously avoids Raven’s eyes, but she also keeps  _looking_  at her, and Raven just frowns and shrugs.

She’s got more important things to worry about, like the fact that the car ride back to the Annex—their team’s home base—is going to  _suck_. Normally, they just send the van through the magical garage door and end up wherever they need to be, but this time they decided to drive.

If she has to listen to Clarke and Bellamy bicker, or Wells ramble on about all of the poor choices they’ve made on this particular mission(and god forbid Bellamy and Clarke join in on  _that_ too), then she thinks she might open up her door in the mini-van and toss herself off into the traffic on the freeway.

It might be preferable, that’s all she’s saying.

An hour later, when they’ve pulled over so that Wells can keep throwing up some crappy vending machine tuna sandwich(who the hell eats tuna sandwiches out of vending machines? Jesus Fucking Christ, all caps totally necessary), Raven is tempted to say I told you so to the damn universe, but instead she just tries to ignore the smell of vomit and makes the terrible choice of pulling out her phone and texting Finn.

She’s a glutton for punishment.

~~

Raven’s fancy leg brace sucks to take off, so she leaves it for now. It’s annoying at times, but it’s better than having to stumble around constantly. At least she can walk. She should feel lucky, grateful, all that crap.

The truth of the matter is that she doesn’t like to think about it—she moves on, lives her life, focuses on the important things that are coming, not the things that have long since been buried in her past.

This, at least, is what she tells herself.

Finn is not one of those things. Finn is her past, her present, and—well, sometimes she thinks he’s her future, and sometimes she’s not so sure.

She loves him, and they have too much history for her to just push him to the side. He’s her best friend, and he’s the closest thing she has to family.

She settles onto a couch at the Annex, enjoying the bustling noises of her team relaxing post-drive(an experience she’s pretty sure they’re never going to repeat, because they should have known better than to drive when they’ve got a perfectly good magical door that can open to pretty much anywhere), and trying to figure out whether or not she should go over to Finn’s place.

She shouldn’t, she really shouldn’t, but—well, it’s been a while since their last breakup, and she needs some stress relief, and if it weren’t for all the baggage that comes with sleeping with him, it might be worth it.

And underneath all of that, he’s her best friend, and she misses him.

She’s seriously considering it now.

She closes her eyes and thinks.

She can hear Monty and Octavia cooing over Wells while they cook dinner, which smells fantastic. She’s in the mood for spaghetti, thankfully, and the sauce and meatballs smell so good she almost wants to get up and see if she can get a sample before dinner.

Bellamy’s bickering with Wells’ dad, who is trying to get a mission debrief, but as usual, it’s impossible to tell your version of the story without someone else butting in and trying to tell theirs. She wonders if the other teams give him this much trouble. Probably not.

And thus, Clarke is directed away from Bellamy and the senior Jaha. She sighs as she sits down next to Raven.

There’s an undercurrent of something strange, like Clarke’s got a lot on her mind. (See, Raven’s good at reading social cues; she doesn’t know what the hell Finn was talking about.) This isn’t unusual for Clarke Griffin, by any means, but she seems more contemplative than usual.

Raven looks down at her phone, and then back up at Clarke. She turns her phone over and places it on the coffee table, and it feels like the right decision.

Clarke is sitting at the end of the couch near Raven’s legs, because of course Raven is spread out comfortably.

Clarke _chose_ to sit near her—there are other couches, and there are certainly other people she could talk to.

“What’s wrong?” Raven asks, because she doesn’t have the patience to beat around the bush today.

She wishes she could cut through the crap so easily with her own personal life, but sadly it’s not so simple.

Clarke hesitates, and the stiffness in her neck and the way she avoids Raven’s eyes tells her that she decides on a lie.

“I’m just tired,” Clarke tells her.

“Hmm,” Raven muses, and then sighs. “Maybe we’ll get a break from the intensity of the last few months. We could really use one.”

“We could,” Clarke agrees, nodding slightly. “Maybe you could go spend some time with Finn,” she says lightly.

“Maybe,” Raven hedges, and Clarke sneaks a look at her.

Clarke’s acting super weird, but Raven has too much on her mind to worry about that. “Are you guys okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Raven says. “Finn and I are just really back and forth. Especially these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke says automatically.

“Don’t be,” Raven shrugs. “We just haven’t figured things out yet.”

“Do you think you will?” Clarke asks.

Raven considers it. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t spend enough time with him, and he complains, because the job comes first. And I get that, because it wasn’t always like this, and now I have so many secrets, and so much I can’t tell him—“ Raven looks over at her phone.

“Would you?”

Raven looks back up at her. “What?”

“Would you tell him if you could? Because Jaha’s over there. We could try to get him security clearance.”

Raven closes her eyes, and tries to figure out what she feels, and what she _wants_.

“I don’t know,” Raven admits finally, her eyes fluttering open. It’s discomforting, and she doesn’t know what to do with it. Then, the answer comes, clear as day. Oh.

Clarke nods, like that’s what she’d expected Raven to say, and Raven wonders if that’s why she seems almost disappointed, like Raven has let her down by not knowing what she wants.

But that’s none of Clarke’s business, and she doesn’t have that right—Raven studies the side of Clarke’s face, and she comes to the conclusion that no, that’s not what this is about.

Clarke looks like _she’s_ confused, and upset about that. That’s probably why she’s projecting, Raven decides.

“You have time to figure it out,” Clarke says then, and Raven nods. She knows now, she thinks, thanks to Clarke’s question. She’s just not sure if she wants to accept it, or if it’s something she can even admit out loud.

“Dinner time,” Monty calls, and Clarke turns her head to face Raven.

She smiles ruefully. “Just not before dinner,” she says, standing up and mindlessly reaching out her hand for Raven to take, like she has a thousand times before.

Raven takes it, and then lets go, and they wander over to the kitchen table.

Octavia lights a candle with her powers, and Bellamy glares at her.

“And that’s why you’re not allowed out on missions,” Bellamy says, and Octavia glares right back at him.

Raven almost thinks that if you got in between them, you’d be incinerated by their gazes.

Regardless of the fact, of course, that Octavia can _literally_ set things on fire. People, too, but she only did that _once_ , she’ll remind you. Bellamy, who has no sense of self-preservation, never ceases to bring the burning man up. It’s his responsibility as a sibling, clearly.

Octavia hasn’t been allowed on missions since their very first one. Their mission to save Wells from the evil Mountain Men(the very reason for the formation of this team) had ended in Octavia getting firey magic powers.

Monty had been Octavia’s replacement, because after that first mission she’d been so busy trying to control her powers and not set the whole world on fire that there’d been practical reasons not to let Octavia back in the field.

Even now, Octavia has been known to set a rogue dish towel on fire when things get out of hand, and Raven gets Bellamy’s concerns. In the field, that could be just as dangerous for them as it could be for their foes.

“Are we going to eat, or—“ Raven makes a motion with her hand.

“We’re going to eat,” Octavia says firmly. “And we’ll ignore my brother while we’re at it.”

“That’s an excellent plan,” Jaha agrees, smiling good-naturedly. He usually only stays for dinner after they’ve had a mission, and they’re always on their best behavior.

(It’s funny to her that _this_ is their best behavior—sibling bickering, Wells looking exceedingly green like he might throw up again at any moment, and Monty drinking too much wine already and declaring that next time they go on a mission, they should put him in charge.)

It feels like home. This terrifies her sometimes, even as it comforts her. These people feel like family, and she feels like she has no right to think that, because they’ve only been a team for a year and a half.

Maybe he reads her mind, because Wells chooses that moment to pat the back of her hand and then smile at her entreatingly, trying to get her to lose herself in the broader conversations taking place.

Within minutes, she’s enveloped in that dangerous, wonderful sense of warmth.

She’s in such a good mood that she makes the mistake of texting Finn back.

~~

They’re on a mission to recover some weird object that can apparently create _dragons_ , and while Raven thinks that’s pretty damned cool, she doesn’t say that aloud, even when Monty espouses the same opinion.

Raven’s in the mood to kick some ass, because she thinks she finally might have broken up with Finn(for good this time, maybe, though she tells herself that almost every time, and it’s never been true yet).  It feels true now, but it’s too soon to know.

Most of the others hadn’t seemed overly impressed by her announcement, probably because they expect her to get back together with him any time. Clarke, however, had seemed thoughtful, like she understood that this might mean something. And it does, Raven wants to believe. She does believe it. It means something.

Things have been slow lately. It seems the Mountain Men aren’t all that interested in causing world-wide devastation, which makes Raven feel a little off-balance. She’s been spending a little too much time with Finn for the past two weeks, which is why they’ve broken up again.

She can’t seem to win, whether she spends too much or too little time. Nothing is ever quite good enough.

It would be nice if Raven could just focus on work, but there haven’t been many missions lately.

Maybe it’s too quiet, Raven thinks, and then shrugs. The counter-intelligence unit doesn’t have any new information for them, and thus Raven’s not all that interested in worrying about maybes, though she makes a mental note to mention it to one of the Jahas.

Raven refocuses her attention on the task at hand.

Monty’s muttering over comms about them forgetting the fire extinguisher in the van, which is probably going to end pretty badly, considering that the dragons could, you know, breathe fire.

Raven tunes Monty out, and just listens for key words. She usually tries to listen more carefully(okay, that’s not entirely true), but she’s not interested in being turned into Raven toast because she wasn’t paying enough attention to her surroundings.

Bellamy’s arguing with Wells over comms about which one of them was supposed to grab the fire extinguisher, and Clarke’s telling them both to shut up. Raven opens a door to a giant room in the warehouse.

“Uh, I found it,” Raven cuts in. “Someone want to run that fire extinguisher over?” According to their calculations, the fire extinguisher should be enough to chill the dragon artifact long enough for any dragons it has created to go back to wherever they came from.

Raven _could_ have rigged something that would have done the exact same thing, but it had seemed like a colossal waste of time considering that fire extinguishers already fucking exist.

She’s beginning to regret that train of thought.

Raven looks around the room from the doorway, because she doesn’t want to draw the attention of any of the people in the room.

And there it is.

There’s a red glass dragon sitting in the middle of the room.

These people aren’t Mountain Men, Raven realizes with relief, and then trepidation. Raven’s not sure how Clarke even found this mission—usually Wells, Bellamy, or the elder Jaha does it, which makes it even weirder—but  lately she’s been obsessed with gathering intel and trying to find something to _do_.

Raven thinks Clarke’s trying to distract herself from something. Raven’s familiar enough with that tactic to know when to mind her own business, and so she doesn’t ask.

Raven focuses on the men and women guarding the glass dragon and frowns. She’s not sure who they are, because they don’t have the signature Mountain Men guns or the weird little shirt collars that the organization seems to like. They’re ugly, if you ask Raven, but that’s the least of the Mountain Men’s large collection of garbage choices.

But these people seem a little less well-trained, and while on one hand that makes Raven feel a little better, they’re also unpredictable, because it’s impossible to know what the hell they think they’re doing here. They’re _literally_ playing with fire.

Wells and Bellamy show up then. Raven’s not saying they’re children, but she wouldn’t have put it past them to both race over to see who could get here first.

Neither of them is carrying the fire extinguisher. “Good job, assholes,” Raven says dryly, rolling her eyes. At that moment, someone in the room catches her eye and then points at the doorway and yells. “Fantastic.”

One of the people in the room, who has a freaking mullet, but whatever, tries to create a dragon, placing his hands on the dragon and focusing intently, but then Clarke shows up in another doorway and shoots him, so that’s nice.

There’s already a mist forming in the center of the room though, and Raven’s not sure if that was enough to stop it from forming.

Bellamy and Wells are making quick work of the douchebag dragon creators in the room. But not fast enough, if you ask Raven, who is using her tranq gun to take out as many people as she can.

She really wishes Lincoln were here, because _he_ wouldn’t have forgotten the fire extinguisher. Sadly, he’s back at the Annex recovering from the flu, or maybe it’s the gunshot wound he got recently, who knows with him.

Octavia’s taking care of him, running around and mother henning him with an intensity that Raven is surprised hasn’t caught Bellamy’s attention yet.

Maybe he has noticed, and he’s decided to stop being annoying as hell and let his sister live her life.

Or maybe, Raven thinks is far more likely, he’s just obtuse.

But anyway, Raven’s sending minions into a deep sleep and hoping to fucking god that that dragon that looks like it’s solidifying in the middle of the room just . . . stops really fast or something.

It doesn’t, and there it is. A _dragon_.

It’s as impressive as she’d thought it would be, but also terrifying.

It starts setting the room on fire, which is just great. Just _great_.

It’s growling at them, and Raven’s about to run when she sees Monty run in through the doorway and sprint toward the glass dragon and spray the crap out of it.

Well, Raven thinks, at least _someone_ had their head tightly screwed on today.

~~

“Ouch!” Raven hisses when Clarke tends to her.

“You’re really lucky you were so far away, and you missed the brunt of the fire,” Clarke says softly. “One of these days, you’re all going to get yourselves killed.”

“You’re the one who ran into the room firing her gun and screaming,” Raven points out, shrugging slightly, and then hissing with pain when it hurts.

“I was trying to protect you,” Clarke says, and then she makes a weird face Raven doesn’t quite understand. “All of you. You’re my people,” she says simply.

“It’s appreciated,” Raven says. “I’m just saying that it might not have been the safest option. You have to take care of yourself too.”

Clarke looks up at her from bandaging Raven’s burn and smiles slightly. “I’ll be fine.” She’s as maddeningly stubborn as Raven herself is.

Raven stops herself from shrugging this time. “Okay, if you say so. But if you get hurt, who is going to patch _you_ up?”

Clarke shrugs now. “Lincoln has medic training.”

“Lincoln wasn’t even on this mission,” Raven points out. “Maybe we all need some sort of basic medical training seminar. We all got the basic tech and basic self-defense training lessons.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Clarke replies. “I’ll mention it to Jaha.”

“Good,” Raven says, reaching out and patting Clarke’s shoulder gently before sliding off the exam table.

~~

Raven’s a very happy drunk right now.

Wells is telling Monty that he’s proud of him for leaving the van to save their asses, but next time—well, don’t get killed, he’s saying, because the last thing they need is to have to replace him.

Raven shudders inwardly at the thought of that. The last time they brought in another comms and tech expert, the guy had been insufferable.

Jasper wasn’t a bad person, by any means, but his voice grated. And while Monty makes excited little comments and tries to hype them up for the mission while also reminding them to stay safe, Jasper made really obnoxious jokes and wasn’t very good at keeping where everyone was straight in his head, even though he had the trackers and access to the security cams.

Most of all, Raven thinks, he just wasn’t Monty.

It was Jasper’s first mission, and they should have given him the benefit of the doubt, but they have Monty, so they’d collectively chosen not to.

Monty is currently in the midst of reenacting his heroics in a fairly embellished way, but Raven doesn’t really blame him.

Lincoln pats his shoulder and tells him he did well, and Monty preens under the attention.

It’s sweet, Raven thinks, and she leans back into the couch and just laughs.

“Another drink?” Clarke asks lightly, appearing at the side of the couch Raven is on.

“I think I’ve—“ Raven just smiles broadly, happily. “I may have hit my limit.”

Clarke nods, and then takes a drink of the beer she’s holding. “I haven’t even gotten started yet,” Clarke says, a little exasperated. “The debrief with Jaha took forever and a day.”

Raven nods seriously, then just shrugs. “He’s a very serious man,” she says. “Sit next to me,” she scoots over, then leans back to the side of the couch to grab onto Clarke’s hands and attempt to pull her over the side.

“Maybe let me put my drink down first?” Clarke laughs, then hands it over Raven’s head to Bellamy thankfully and lets Raven pull her onto the couch.

Raven means to pull her over just onto the edge of the couch, but instead she ends up halfway on the couch, halfway on top of Raven.  

Bellamy just smiles down at them, completely bemused, and Raven sticks out her tongue childishly. Clarke laughs and takes her drink back, then shoos Bellamy away.

Raven looks between the two of them and thinks that in a slightly different world, they’d have already started banging, and they might be halfway in love by now.

But they haven’t, and they aren’t.

“You’re very cushiony,” Clarke says conversationally, and Raven laughs again.

“And I thought I was the one who was drunk.”

“You are,” Clarke says, “But Octavia handed me a shot of something that kind of scared me, but she promised it would work fast. Which—“ Clarke lifts her head, then drops it back down onto Raven’s stomach. “It has.”

~~

Two hours later, pretty much everyone has gone to sleep in their respective beds except Raven and Clarke.

“I don’t get this movie,” Raven says. “Why are they fighting over a wedding day? They could just go to Vegas and get it over with.”

“I don’t know,” Clarke replies. “It wouldn’t be much of a movie then.”

“True,” Raven sighs. “But that rationale shouldn’t be the only reason why characters make the literal worst choices in the world.”

“Movie logic,” Clarke shrugs and moves to lean her head on Raven’s shoulder like she has a million times before, but then hesitates.

Raven raises an eyebrow, then redirects her attention to Bride Wars, that ridiculous Kate Hudson-Anne Hathaway movie. “They should have just cut the boys out altogether and just married each other,” Raven says, and she’s not bitter about Finn at all, obviously.

Raven’s sexuality has always been a little fluid(she’s bisexual goddamnit), but right now ‘boys are dumb’ is pretty much her credo.

She needs to find herself a nice lady, or maybe a nice person who ignores gender altogether.

Anything but boys at this point, Raven thinks.

But then again, boys can be pretty, but so can everyone else.

She’s had too much to drink, she decides, because her thoughts are sluggish and nonsensical. She’s already starting to sober up though, thankfully.

Raven leans against Clarke then. “So what’s new in Clarke-land?” she asks conversationally. “Getting into any wars with good friends over irrelevant crap?”

Clarke laughs. “Just . . . re-evaluating my life,” Clarke says. “Figuring out what I want.”

“What inspired that?” Raven asks curiously. She should probably do the same, but it’s easier to stay in denial.

“Um—“ Clarke sounds like she isn’t quite sure if she wants to say or not, and so Raven contemplates pressing, because that’s kind of her forte.

“Have you figured anything out yet?” Raven asks, prodding gently.

“Not sure,” Clarke answers. “Too early to tell.” She looks hesitant.

Raven narrows her eyes. “What secret are you keeping?” She and Clarke are good enough friends for her to not have any qualms about interrogating her. Friendship has its benefits, after all.

“I’m not keeping a secret,” Clarke lies.

Raven just gives her a _look_.

“I’m not,” Clarke repeats, but Raven just keeps staring at her, daring her to avoid the truth of whatever is on her mind.

“Fine,” Clarke rolls her eyes like it’s totally irrelevant, which it obviously isn’t if she’s so concerned about it. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Depends,” Raven says with a shrug. “Some things you can’t escape, and some things you choose for yourself.”

Clarke nods. “Okay, now do you believe in soulmates?” She winces at the last word, like she’s a little embarrassed that she’s talking about it. Her cheeks are flushed, but that might just be the excess alcohol. Raven decides to give her the benefit of the doubt, and answer her question seriously.

Raven makes a face. “Soulmates are for people who want easy answers to complex questions. You need love, trust, respect, compatibility, a _spark_. And sometimes that’s still not enough.”

Raven takes a deep breath, “Some people just want to pretend that something is completely undeniable because they either can’t accept that they don’t have trust, or respect, or shared values, or whatever, and thus their relationship is doomed, and they’re in denial.”

“Ouch,” Clarke hisses softly. “Or?”

“Or, some other people can’t live not knowing, and so they desperately try to rewrite the laws of physics to suit their own wants,” Raven answers. “But life’s not meant to be like that. It’s unpredictable.”

Clarke is quiet, considering.

“What?” Raven asks. She reaches out and taps the side of Clarke’s head. “What’s going on in there?”

“What if you could?” Clarke asks quietly.

“Could what?” Raven asks, losing the train of conversation.

“Get a guarantee,” Clarke explains. “What if you knew without the shadow of the doubt that someone was your soulmate?”

Raven shrugs. “Life’s not about guarantees,” she says.

“We live in a world where science isn’t always logical, and sometimes things are more magical than they should be. Octavia literally has firestarting powers.” Octavia doesn’t usually do much more than use her powers to cook and light candles, but she still has them.

“If I love someone,” Raven says, “And I want to be with them, then no silly guarantee from any kind of person or weird object is going to convince me one way or the other. If you know, then you know, and you don’t need to be told.”

“What if you’re told,” Clarke says, “Before you get the chance to know?”

“I don’t know,” Raven says, scrunching up her nose. “It’s not likely to happen anyway. Why?”

Clarke hesitates. “It happened to me,” she answers. “The day we got that orb in Chicago. Apparently the reason it was causing riots was because it was tapping into people’s psyches and it started by telling you people’s soulmates, and then moved on to telling you all kinds of weird stuff about people and the future.”

Raven wonders if it was the knowledge that disturbed them, or the fact that the orb was taken away from them before they got to know _everything_.

She wonders what she might have seen. She shakes off a shudder, because of all the things she’s too afraid to know.

Soulmates, destiny, certainty.

These are powerful thoughts, and Raven isn’t immune to their influence.

“Huh,” Raven says as blandly as possible, “Cool. What’d you see?”

“Lincoln and Octavia,” Clarke answers, and that’s clearly not the worst of what she saw.

“I see it,” Raven says, nodding her head, very pleased. That was going to happen anyway. “Who else?”

“I couldn’t see anyone for Wells,” Clarke tells her, “Bellamy was . . . weird. Monty was connected to someone I think I recognized, but I’m not sure. And I—“ Clarke pauses. “I saw someone, and I think I’m meant to believe they’re my soulmate.”

“Does that mean that you don’t?” Raven asks. “Because when you put it like that, that’s how it sounds.”

“It was surprising,” Clarke hedges. “Let’s just put it that way.”

“I see,” Raven says, frowning slightly. “You realize you just laughed maniacally for a second, right?” Raven watches Clarke carefully, thinking about the kind of person who must be Clarke’s soulmate. They’re very lucky, she thinks, and they better be kind and wonderful to her, or Raven’s going to viciously rip them to pieces, soulmate or not.

“I’m aware,” Clarke says ruefully.  “But that’s because Lincoln and Octavia are apparently soulmates.”

Raven laughs out loud. “Oh my god,” she says, trying to breathe through the laughter. “He’s going to hate that.”

“Bellamy? Yeah,” Clarke says, and she’s trying to keep a straight face, but her smile is peaking through.

Raven just considers the situation, because the idea of soulmates and all that jazz—well, it’s not really her thing.

Or maybe it is.

It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask if Clarke saw anyone for her, but then she doesn’t.

Raven tilts her head toward Clarke, and almost asks, but then pulls back. She heads for middle ground, which still might be too far. “My soulmate isn’t Finn, is it.” It feels less like a question than a statement.

Finn is her family, her best friend—but he hasn’t felt like the guy she’s going to spend the rest of her life with in a while.

She’s almost terrified to let go of him though. She has her team, but part of her still expects everything to fall out from underneath her. She keeps expecting that everyone’s going to leave her, and it’ll be like when she was a kid, before she met Finn.

That doesn’t change the fact that if Clarke saw Raven’s soulmate, it probably isn’t Finn.

Raven wonders if there’s a person out there who is meant for her—a guaranteed person who would love her, and never leave her—and then she decides that if there is, she probably wouldn’t trust it anyway.

Clarke hesitates.

“He’s not,” Raven says, and at first she’s not sure if she’s upset about this, but then she just feels relief. Maybe, she thinks, there would be a little bit of value in guarantees.

“He’s not,” Clarke confirms finally.

Raven waits for the pain, but it never comes.

“Okay,” Raven says, breathing in deeply. He’s still her best friend, and that’ll never change. “That’s good.”

That’s good.

Raven doesn’t need to know anything more, because she’ll love who she wants to love. She turns back to the movie. “I really wish these girls would just hook up. It’d solve all their problems. Maybe that’s why they’re so intense about the weddings. Some secret love, internalized biphobia shit.”

“Maybe,” Clarke says. “I think it’s more likely just Hollywood’s thing about most leads having to be _super_ heterosexual.”

“So glad my life’s not like that,” Raven says, frowning.

“Scary,” Clarke says in all seriousness.

They both burst out laughing then, and it’s a good thing none of the bedrooms border the living area, because they’re nearly loud enough to wake the dead.

~~

“I know I said I want medical training,” Raven says, sighing. “And I do, really, I do. But I’m a little annoyed that I’m the only one here.”

“Lincoln already has basic training, and Bellamy’s off doing ‘research’ on some mission involving some friend of his,” Clarke explains, shrugging slightly. “I’ll get him though,” Clarke says, very determined. “Monty apparently wants a very serious training exercise if he’s going to do it. And Wells heard Monty’s idea and decided to do it with him.”

“Very serious training exercise?” Raven cocks her head to the side, questioning.

“I think they want to go through the agency’s actual medical training course,” Clarke shrugs.

“I see,” Raven says. She’s about to ask something, but she loses the train of thought when Octavia bursts into the room they’re using for training.

“I’m here,” Octavia announces, raising her arms around her dramatically.

Raven just laughs. “I don’t think you’re getting back into the field any time soon,” Raven points out.

“I still think it would be useful for me to know the basics,” Octavia says, “Just in case.”

Raven shares a look with Clarke, who nods.

“Sure,” Clarke says. “But if Bellamy comes to me complaining—“

Octavia nods, clearly a little exasperated. “Do you think I could use my powers to burn someone’s bleeding body parts closed?”

“You sound way too excited about that,” Raven raises an eyebrow. “Should we be worried?” she teases.

One of the consequences of spending so much time together, and _living_ together, is that they’re all close friends.

Raven gives Octavia a careful look, and wonders if she’s finally made a move on Lincoln yet.

“Hey, Blake. You and Lincoln stop flirting long enough to do the deed yet?” she asks bluntly.

The color seems to empty right out of Octavia’s face, but she presses her lips together in a firm line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aww,” Raven says. “You haven’t yet.”

“But she clearly likes him,” Clarke butts in then. “Give them time, they’ll get there.”

Octavia hesitates, clearly unsure of whether she wants to open up to them.

Raven just smiles, and Clarke looks like she’s trying to expel positive vibes out of her pores.

“Do you think he likes me?” Octavia asks coolly, like she doesn’t actually care all that much. She does, and anyone can see that clear as day.

“I do,” Clarke tells Octavia, and suddenly the brunette is a ball of excitement and nerves.

“I like spending time with him,” Octavia tells them, “We hang out sometimes between missions. He’s even been training me a little. But he can be a little hard to read sometimes.”

It’s cute how excited she is, Raven thinks. She’d like to be that excited about someone again.

“We should all have a night out sometime,” Raven says. “Clarke and I will keep Bellamy busy.”

“We will?” Clarke asks wryly, but Raven just keeps bulldozing forward.

“And you can make your move,” Raven declares.

“Really?” Octavia asks. “That’d be—“ Octavia hesitates, and then her face lights up with hope. “That would be amazing, thank you.”

Clarke smiles softly, and says, “We’re your family, and we’d do anything for you.”

It makes something go soft in Raven, who really needed to hear that, even if it hadn’t exactly been directed at her.

It stands, she thinks.

Finn’s inconsistent about what he wants from her—are they still friends, does he want more, can he accept that she doesn’t?  She’s moving on, she thinks, and it’s good to know that she’s not entirely alone.

And hopefully, one day, she’ll be able to believe it.

~~

Raven’s tinkering with some new toy she’s developing, brow furrowed and glistening with sweat, when Bellamy peeks in through the slightly open door to her workshop.

“What do you want?” she asks, not bothering to put anything down.

She’s busy, and he can just deal with it.

“I need—“ Bellamy hesitates, and Raven looks back up at him.

“Come in already,” Raven encourages him, deciding then to set her things back down on her work table.

He looks very serious, and if this were a social call, he’d have already made a half flirty, half sarcastic comment within seconds of popping up at her door.

“A friend of mine is probably in trouble with the Mountain Men,” Bellamy explains without preamble. “Jaha won’t sanction the mission unless I get some hard proof.”

“Then get some,” Raven says, but there’s no heat to her words. Bellamy looks genuinely worried.

“Nate told me he was going undercover, and he hasn’t checked in for the past two days.”

Raven winces. “He’s with the intelligence unit, right?” Bellamy nods. “Why haven’t they sent someone?”

“They don’t want to risk blowing his cover. Apparently they’re up to something really big.”

“Hmm,” Raven says, reaching out to fiddle with her prototype. “Well, if you’re looking to mount some big rescue, I’m in.” She shrugs, like it’s nothing.

She’d do it for any of them.

Bellamy’s face just opens up, and he sighs with relief. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Raven says, and she smiles gently at him. “We’ll get him back.”

Bellamy hugs her impulsively. Raven knows this, because he looks as surprised as she feels.

She pats his back, as if that’ll somehow make him feel better, and then pulls away.

They’ve got plenty to do, after all—hurry up and save the world, right?

~~

Raven is pretty sure she’s going to die.

Her left arm is out of its socket, and even though she wants to pull of some sort of badass stunt and ram it back into place herself, she’s not a freaking doctor, and she knows it.

She can taste blood in her mouth from her head wound, her arm is broken, and there’s a deep gash on her leg that she’s pretty sure is going to leave a scar.

They save the world all the time, which involves a certain level of danger. That much, she’s always known. She knows what she signed up for, and she knows how it could end for any one of them.

She’s not fearless, but she tries to be brave—and so here she is.

She’s going to die here, in this random room in the Mountain Men’s secret base, all alone.

They should have brought backup, Raven thinks wryly.

She shouldn’t even _be_ here, technically. If she’d just let Bellamy and Clarke argue out their little issue to some sort of conclusion, then one of them would be in the east wing, and Raven would be  . . . well, she’d be somewhere else, potentially not bleeding all over the ground.

Raven’s not wishing this on any of her friends, exactly, she’s just contemplating whether they would have been faster, or smarter, or—she sighs.

Then again, maybe she’s just supposed to die today.

This thought strikes fear right to her core, shaking her free of her thoughts.

“Monty—“ Raven says again, hoping comms will start working again.

She hears nothing.

She laughs, and the sound seems suitably empty to her ears.

She looks around the room, which is holding one of the many people the Mountain Men have taken hostage. The girl can’t be more than sixteen, and her eyes are glassy, and there are several different fluids running into her.

The man who had inflicted several of Raven’s injuries is dead on the floor next to her, blood pooling around him.

Raven leans her head back against the wall and sighs.

She hears a noise outside of the room, and she lifts her gun.

Maybe it’s a friendly, maybe it’s not.

Either way, it’s better to be prepared.

The relief that courses through her when she lays eyes on Clarke and Wells is impossible to describe.

She doesn’t cry, exactly, but she wipes away a tear with the corner of her thumb, because her eyes are watering. From the pain, of course.

Clarke rushes over to her, and Wells looks out the door, double-checking to make sure that no one is coming.

“Backup’s ETA is four and a half minutes,” Wells says, and Raven nods her head weakly until she hisses with pain from the movement.

Clarke gives her a careful onceover, and then meets her eyes.

“I know that look,” Raven says. “This is going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says sympathetically, wincing slightly. “It is.” She turns to Wells. “I need your help.” Raven tries to remind herself that her arm can’t possibly hurt more than it does now and at least it’ll be back the way it’s supposed to be and—she cries out in pain.

They settle things as best as they can, and Raven fights the physical need to pass out while Clarke starts tending to her other wounds. “Monty got worried when you weren’t checking in anymore,” Clarke says. “I grabbed Wells, and we headed right over here.”

Raven’s eyes feel like they’re about to loll back into her head, but she gently nods as best as she can.

Clarke’s hand slides up her neck to cup her face. “Hey, I’m glad you’re alive, but you need to stay with me. I think you have a concussion.”

Raven vaguely feels that Wells and Clarke are trying to lift her up, but she’s suddenly realizing that the odd feeling in her head isn’t just pain and exhaustion.

Clarke pats the side of her face gently, trying to wake her up. “Focus, Raven,” she says. “Stay awake,” she says, and there’s something, Raven thinks, something scared in her voice.

“Come on, Raven,” Wells says, and it’s the same in his.

Maybe that’s what keeps her awake, or maybe it’s the pain. Either way, it works, and Wells gets to work undoing the restraints holding the girl to the table.

Clarke lifts her other hand to the other side of Raven’s face and just holds her head in place.

“You’re going to be all right,” Clarke says, and it sounds like a promise.

“I’m going to be all right,” Raven says, slurring her words more than a little. “Thank you.”

Clarke smiles. “No problem.”

~~

Raven misses the rest of the mission, because she’s in the back of an ambulance—which Clarke brooks no arguments about, insisting that there could be internal bleeding, or any other number of things to worry about.

Raven just goes along with it, occasionally demanding updates on the mission when she’s feeling particularly lucid.

Clarke’s the only one with her on the ride to the hospital, because the others are busy, and that’s exactly what she’d expect and want them to do.

Raven would like Clarke to go back too, in case someone else needs help, but Clarke just gives her a stern look.

“They brought in specialists, because of all the people hooked to the machines,” Clarke says, shrugging slightly. “They’re going to get the best care possible.”

“Bellamy’s friend—“ Raven starts to say, then stops because she’s feeling a little more dizzy than before. She’s feeling nauseated, which isn’t a good sign.

“He’s fine,” Clarke says, “And thanks to him, all of those other people are going to be okay too.”

Raven thinks Clarke might just be repeating that over and over again, but she can’t quite be sure.

It’s what Raven needs to hear though, so maybe it’s okay.

Clarke grabs her hand and smiles down at her.

~~

She’s fine.

They keep her overnight, just to be careful, but she’s _fine_.

Now, in the light of the next day, she’s beginning to feel a little silly for thinking she was going to die.

She can’t quite express the fear that had run through her at the thought that no one was going to come back for her.

She doesn’t know why she thought that—or maybe, she thinks, she’s trying not to remember why.

It’s easy to talk about how these people are her family, about how this team is more than just a collection of random people with specific skillsets.

It’s easy to say the words, and to feel the gentle affection(and then irritation, and all of those other emotions associated with people you live with and eat with and breathe the same air with).

It’s harder, she thinks, to block out the voice in your head that comes when your defenses are down—the one that reminds you that no one has ever loved you like that, has ever really come through for you.

It’s six am, and she’s alive, and the sun is rising outside her window. She should be feeling more optimistic, but somehow she’s feeling alone.

She shouldn’t be. Her people came for her, and she’s _here_ , heart beating, blood pumping.

There’s no reason for this doubt in her heart, and there’s no reason it should still be there.

Her friends have saved her life dozens of times, and she’s returned the favor just as many. That’s what they do, they’re a _team_.

She tilts her head to the side on the pillow and watches the sun through the open blinds.

She feels lost, somehow, despite herself.

~~

Here is the truth: Raven can be brutally honest with everyone around her, but she’s not so great at telling herself the truth.

Sometimes it’s pleasant lies, and sometimes it’s more insidious stuff, the kind that digs deep into your darkest fears and memories and hurts you at your weakest, most vulnerable point.

She’s mean to herself sometimes—unkind words used to create a protective layer of gruffness, so that her skin is as tough as steel.

If you always expect no, you’re never disappointed. If you always expect the worst in people, they can never disappoint you.

When times are fairly good, it’s easy to pretend that you actually trust people, that you know that they’ll come through for you.

And usually, Raven does.

Usually, it’s easy to pretend, and when dangerous situations arise, she doesn’t have a lot of time to second-guess people.

But bleeding out in a room all by yourself is an entirely different situation. She’d had too much time to think, and too much time to beat herself down.

She has too much time now too, and too much quiet. The gentle beeping of the machines isn’t enough to distract her by any means.

A nurse walks by her room again, poking her head in and then continuing her walk after Raven shakes her head just enough to make her go away.

And then, she’s alone again, except for the cacophony of her own thoughts clamoring together, and demanding to be heard.

~~

They show up all together, like they always do.

When anyone gets hurt, they all show up, like clockwork.

Raven’s been on the other side of these visits before, and she knows it doesn’t come from a sense of duty, so much as love.

Monty brought her a stuffed dog, and Bellamy is awkwardly trying set flowers on the bedside table, like he’s never given flowers to a girl before(which Raven knows isn’t true), and Wells is taking those flowers and setting them in a vase, arranging them beautifully.

Octavia is talking a mile a minute, grabbing her hand and talking animatedly about how she’s glad that Raven’s going to be okay and _oh hey_ , are you okay? She asks questions, and demands answers, and there’s something comforting about that.

Lincoln just gives her a nod and a smile, which Raven thinks is actually pretty impressive coming from him.

When Bellamy heads off to the vending machines for coffee, the rest of them filter out after him, one at a time for one reason or another.

Except Clarke, that is, who plants herself in the chair next to Raven’s beside and looks immediately comfortable.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Clarke says.

“I know,” Raven says wryly. “You said that before.”

“It’s true,” Clarke says, maybe a little huffy now. “You’re one of my best friends in the world,” Clarke says.

“Don’t tell Wells, he might get jealous,” Raven teases, and she knows it isn’t true. Wells is perfectly secure as Clarke Griffin’s Actual Best Friend, and that’s pretty sweet.

Raven’s trying not to think about her doubts right now, or how scared she was when she was sitting in the room.

Most of all, she’s trying not to hate herself for feeling that way. Her friends haven’t earned this level of worry from her.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks.

“Nothing,” Raven shrugs slightly, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She pays for that, and her arm spasms in pain slightly.

“Liar,” Clarke says, but there’s no real heat, just concern. “You know,” Clarke says conversationally. “When Wells and I found you in that room,” Clarke hesitates, then clears her throat, like it’s hard for her to get the words out. “You looked surprised.”

“I was expecting bad guys,” Raven says, like it’s nothing at all.

“Were you?” Clarke asks. “Or were you just not expecting us?”

“I don’t see what the difference is,” Raven says, but she does.

“Maybe it’s just semantics, and there’s not a difference at all. Or maybe,” Clarke muses, pausing for a moment, “Maybe you didn’t think we’d come for you.”

“That’s not fair,” Raven says, the words spilling out of her mouth violently.

“No,” Clarke says, “It’s not,” but she doesn’t sound accusatory, just sad.

Raven leans back and closes her eyes, sighing deeply.

“No one gets left behind,” Clarke says softly, chiding her as gently as she can manage. “You know that.”

Raven squeezes her eyes closed, trying to hold back tears. “People surprise you,” Raven says, and she’s not sure how Clarke is going to take that.

Clarke reaches out and grabs her hand. “We’re as predictable as they come on that point,” Clarke says simply, squeezing slightly.

Octavia and Monty wander back in then with snacks from the vending machines, and the conversation ends. Raven has a feeling it’s not over for good though.

Next time, she’s going to need a better explanation.

If she wanted to, she could just refuse to explain herself.

But that, she reminds herself, isn’t going to help with her inner drama.

Part of her desperately wants the life she’s been pretending to lead.

She wants love, and friendship, and trust.

She wants to believe in the best of people, to think there’s actually a chance that people are decent, and the world is a good place.

But maybe, she thinks, she’s just got a little bit too much evidence to the contrary.

~~

On the day she’s supposed to get discharged from the hospital, Bellamy shows up to get her, and he looks guilty.

“What did you do?” Raven asks when the nurse leaves for a moment.

“I almost got you killed,” he says, and she laughs.

It’s not very nice of her, but it’s not malicious at all. She’s just surprised.

She quickly stops laughing and just looks at him from her perch in the wheelchair.

“Come here,” she says, and he steps forward.

“What?”

“Lean down,” she says, and he leans down in front of the wheelchair, and she reaches out and flicks him on the head.

He makes a face and stands back up. “Reyes,” he says warningly.

“Stop being ridiculous, Blake. I made my choice, I’m your friend, and your team member.”

She says it, and she _feels_ it down to her core.

This, she realizes, it’s how it’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, there’s doubt, but they’re still a team.

“Are we okay?” Bellamy asks gruffly, like the giant overgrown teddy bear he is.

“Yes,” Raven says, “We’re fine.” And they are. “Now, let’s go home.”

~~

She wakes up from her nightmares, sweaty and terrified.

She’s pissed, too.

There’s nothing that makes her angrier than her own fear—something she’s never been all that great at explaining to people.

She turns on her bedroom light and stares around at her room.

She’s okay.

She’s alive, she’s breathing, she’s—she’s not staying in this room a minute longer, she decides, and she grabs her brace and puts it on, then rolls out of bed, grabbing her blanket and slipping into her slippers. She’s not even really lifting her feet, because she’s tired from the lack of sleep, and she’s pretty sure she’s building up a little static electricity.

This is important, of course, because she bumps into Clarke in the hallway, who jumps three feet in the air from the surprise and—pun intended—shock of it all.

“Sorry,” Raven says, but she knows she doesn’t sound or look sorry much at all.

Clarke puts a hand over her heart, breathing in deeply. “I’m fine,” she says, going for a nonchalant vibe and failing miserably.

“I was just—“ Raven shrugs, deciding not to explain herself. She gets a better look at Clarke, who looks comfortable, but also kind of adorable in her pajamas.

Her shirt is a simple black tank-top, but the shorts have little ducks on them, and her slippers have bunny ears.

It makes a nice picture, Raven thinks, and then moves on.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Raven admits finally.

“Me neither,” Clarke says softly.

“Nightmares,” Raven hears herself say. She feels like a zombie, like she’s only one step above being dead on her feet.

Clarke reaches out and puts her hand on Raven’s arm, sliding it up and down gently for a moment. “Do you want to talk about it?” She sounds appropriately concerned, and Raven remembers that Clarke did a psych rotation.

Raven winces. “I’d rather be hung by my toes from the ceiling.”

Clarke nods, but she looks upset.

“Is there anything I can do?” Clarke asks, and she just sounds so incredibly understanding and nice that Raven wants to be bitter and sarcastic. She wants it desperately.

But she also wants to sleep.

Raven just sighs, and her body feels heavy and lethargic. “Will you just stay with me?” she asks finally.

Surprise flickers across Clarke’s face, but she doesn’t hesitate to answer. “Of course.”

She wakes up the next morning tangled in her own blankets and sheets, but so is Clarke.

She smiles, slightly. She feels warm and relaxed, and _happy_.

She closes her eyes and refuses to move, because she wants the feeling to last.

~~

When Raven walks into the kitchen a few weeks later, Octavia is twirling knives around in her hands and beaming at everyone. She’s been taking lessons with Indra, one of the fighting instructors,z and she’s getting pretty good with her weapons. She has a sword hanging in her bedroom that she insists is just for show, but Raven’s seen her wield it in a bout, and she knows that it’s a lot more than that.

“We’re going out next week,” Octavia tells her, plopping down next to her on the couch. “So long as no one tries to steal any magical artifacts, or take over the world by then, anyway.”

“Someone’s always trying to take over the world,” Raven points out wryly.

Octavia shrugs. “I know,” she says, and her mood dampens a little. She still looks hopeful, and excited. Her expression grows a bit more serious, and she sighs. “I think,” she says sincerely, “that I’m in love with him.”

“Wow,” Raven replies. “I’ve seen you guys together, but I thought you hadn’t even made a move yet.”

“I haven’t,” Octavia says, frowning slightly. “But I still feel it. I know him. I may not know how he feels about me, but I know how I feel about him, and that’s enough. The feeling I get when I’m around him—it feels right.”

Raven bites back something along the lines of _good luck with that_ , and says, “If you feel that way, then just make a move. Don’t wait for what might or might not happen next week. Just put it all on the line.”

“I don’t want to be wrong,” Octavia says softly. “I’ve never doubted the way I feel about him, but I—what if I’m just reading into things? When he smiles at me, and he looks at me—I _feel_ something, but—“

“You won’t know unless you try,” Raven says firmly.

Octavia nods, still a little uncertain.

“If you aren’t willing to take the risk, then you don’t deserve the reward,” she says, and it may be a little harsh, but at the end of the day, if what Octavia needs is a kick in the ass, then Raven’s going to give it to her.

~~

Bellamy doesn’t even go out with them, begging off with a headache or something, and Raven feels bad for the guy, but it means that he won’t get between Lincoln and Octavia, which means less work for her.

Raven and Clarke sit at the bar, watching as Lincoln and Octavia awkwardly tip toe around each other.

It’s sweet. Wells is laughing and joking with Monty and Bellamy’s friend Nathan Miller, who has been hanging around a bit lately. He’s waiting out his mandatory downtime period before he can go back undercover, so his day is mostly just sitting around on a computer, looking for some kind of break. Raven doesn’t blame him for hanging around with her team, because they _have_ to be more fun than the intelligence crew.

Raven turns away from them and faces Clarke, readjusting herself on barstool.

Clarke is nursing her third drink, and she has a smile on her face. She looks relaxed, which isn’t always the case with Clarke, especially these days.

“Do you think Wells is lonely?” Raven asks suddenly.

“He’s not,” Clarke says simply without hesitation, and she would know, considering that they’re best friends. "He dates, and he has his friends and family. He's happy as he is."

Raven tilts her head toward Clarke, “Are you and Wells banging in secret?”

“No,” Clarke says, looking surprised.  

Still, Raven doesn’t regret the question, because Clarke’s face is priceless.

“After the crystal ball mission, I told Wells about what I saw,” Clarke tells her. “He was just totally blank. Bellamy at least seemed more like a question mark, but he—“ Clarke hesitates. “I wondered if it had something to do with whatever the Mountain Men did to him.”

“Maybe,” Raven says. “Should we be worried?” Wells is a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to have even more crap thrown his way.

“I don’t think so,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “When I told him, he said that it made sense, because _we’re_ his soulmates.”

Raven makes a face. “Seriously?” It’s cheesy as hell, and on the outside she’s a little mocking, but on the inside, she actually sort of loves it. She turns to look at Wells, who she thinks might be the happiest of them all. Minus Monty, of course, who is flirting pretty heavily with Miller.

 “It doesn’t make sense,” Clarke says, taking a sip of her drink.

“It makes perfect sense,” Raven disagrees. She turns back again to look at Clarke. “Now, why don’t you go get yourself some action?”

Clarke laughs. “I’m fine.”

“You look hot. I look hot. We both deserve something fun,” she says, looking out over the people in the bar. “Let’s dance.”

“I’m not really—“Clarke starts to say, but then Raven grabs her hand and pulls her right off her stool.

Clarke is reticent at first, and but Raven just tries to get her to loosen up, and eventually she starts to.

It pleases Raven to see the way that Clarke just spins around and around, laughing and smiling.

Sometimes, in this line of work, you can get a little too serious.

~~

Later, when Raven pulls Clarke back to a booth, her body is aching, but she can’t stop smiling.

Clarke is laughing, and it’s all twinkly and beautiful, like she’s in the middle of a perfectly happy moment.

And hey, maybe she is.

Raven looks up from staring at her hands on the table to see Clarke smiling at her.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, but Raven feels a _pull_ in her stomach, and she’s drawn forward, closing the distance between them.

She stops a few inches away from Clarke and just sits there, their eyes still meeting in some weird sort of moment.

Raven’s not sure what this is—she’s never thought about Clarke that way, but her brain is fried from the stress of almost dying and rethinking everything in her life, and all she can think about is her conversation with Octavia.

Sometimes, when someone looks at you, you _feel_ something.

Sometimes, it surprises you.

Sometimes you just _know._

Clarke looks thoughtful now, and maybe a little hesitant, like she’s waiting for something.

Raven’s not sure what she’s about to do, or if she’s going to do anything, because the next thing she knows, Wells is walking over to them, asking if they’re ready to leave, and the moment is over.

~~

Monty’s driving, and Miller’s in the passenger seat. Lincoln and Octavia are in the middle seats, and Raven’s not sure if she’s genuinely pleased or a little grossed out by their cuteness factor, and Wells is sitting next to herself and Clarke.

Clarke and Raven are facing each other, laughing quietly about some guy with the literal worst pickup lines they had ever heard, likely recycled from some ancient book of cavemen proverbs or something.

There’s softness between them right now, juxtaposed against the electric intensity that Raven feels inside of herself, threatening to spill out.

“I think Wells is asleep,” Clarke whispers. 

It might be the alcohol, or just the exhilaration of a nice, fun night, but there’s something electric and warm inside of Raven right now, and Raven gets a really good look at Clarke and her smile fades.

She gets an indescribable, intense urge to kiss Clarke, but that’s just—before she can even make a move, Clarke’s tilting her head along the fabric of the car seat, and now she’s kissing Raven, just a soft, gentle kiss that doesn’t last nearly long enough.

Well, Raven thinks, that was unexpected.

~~

Raven is generally pretty sure of herself. She’s decisive, she’s strong, and she’s stubborn as hell when she wants to be.

Okay, not even just when she wants to be. She’s stubborn pretty much all the damn time, and sometimes it’s inconvenient.

At this particular moment, however, she’s not feeling very sure of herself.

After the awkward throat clearing noise that Monty had made when they’d gotten back to the Annex, she and Clarke fell apart, staring at each other.

They’d gone their separate ways, and now Raven is staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep.

She wonders if this had been forming between them for a while, or if it had been entirely random.

There’d been affection between them, a sense of kindness and friendship.

Clarke is one of Raven’s favorite people, because the energy required for being around her is so minimal. They don’t always agree about things, but that never feels stressful, unless they’re in life and death situations.

They can hang out and laugh, and be together without Raven having to worry. But that sounds like friendship, not—not something more, exactly.

Raven briefly remembers their kisses in the back of the van, and _that_ is enough to prove that there’s potential.

There’s chemistry, at least. Surprising sexual tension, and a deep sense of _want_.

Raven would say she’s not sure if she wants to risk their friendship, but from the pull in her gut and the odd ache in her chest, she’s pretty sure it’s too late for that.

~~

Without thinking too much about it, Raven puts her brace back on and jumps out of bed, heading over to Clarke’s room before she can think about it too much.

Or, at least, before she can talk herself out of it.

Raven knocks on Clarke’s door once, and then twice, and then makes herself stand still.

Clarke opens up the door and looks surprised to see her there.

She looks happy too, for a moment, but then she winces, and her face shutters closed, and all Raven sees is regret.

“Oh,” Raven says, all of her energized steam running out. “I thought—“

“No, no—“Clarke says, reaching out to grab her arm when she moves to leave. “Please don’t leave. I didn’t—“

“It’s okay,” Raven says, and she’s surprised by how upset she is by this, especially considering that the idea of _Raven and Clarke_ is so new.

Optimism doesn’t suit her, she reminds herself.

If you always expect the worst, you’ll never be disappointed.

Clarke gently pulls Raven into her room, and Raven’s not sure why she lets her.

Clarke shuts the door behind her and turns to look at Raven, who is studiously looking at Clarke’s bookshelf.

Casually, Raven says, “I thought I’d borrow a book,” she says, and Clarke makes a surprised grunt.

Raven tilts her head to face her. “As opposed to, you know, coming to talk about the fact that we made out in the van on the way back from the bar.”

Clarke bites her lip and frowns. “It’s not what you think it is.”

“Isn’t it?” Raven asks, and she’s furious at herself for how upset she sounds.

“No, it’s not,” Clarke reaches out and grabs her hands, pulling her around so that they’re facing each other. “It’s not you. This thing, I—“

“Are you really pulling the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card?” Raven asks. “Because that’s really messed up, Clarke. I thought we were friends.” She means it to come out casually, almost jokingly, but from Clarke’s pained face, she doesn’t quite manage it.

“We are,” Clarke affirms. “There’s just something I didn’t tell you, and I should have.”

Raven frowns. “What?” She chuckles bitterly. “What, are you married?”

“No,” Clarke shakes her head. “I’m your soulmate.”

Raven opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“I didn’t mean to tell you that way,” Clarke says. “I wanted to tell you before, but it sounded like you didn’t really want to know who your soulmate was. And I didn’t want to ruin that for you. I didn’t even know what _I_ wanted.”

“But you know now,” Raven says.

“Yes,” Clarke says. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this, and I—“

“Please, stop,” Raven waves her hand like _please, no_. “You were just sitting around wondering if you wanted me, and thought I didn’t deserve to know what was going on? Like, oh, don’t worry about Raven, she’ll just go along with whatever I decide?” She sounds bitter and mean, and she can’t stop the flow of words now.

“It wasn’t like that,” Clarke says, shaking her head. “It was just this huge thing, and I—“ She’s crying now, and Raven doesn’t know if she feels bad for her or hates her, and she thinks it might be both.

“You should have been honest with me,” Raven says now.

“I know,” Clarke says softly. “I was afraid that knowing would change things—I wasn’t even sure if what I was feeling was real, or if it was happening because I knew you were my soulmate, and I didn’t want you to have to feel that way too.”

“I think that makes it worse,” Raven says then, and she remembers the worst things about Clarke now.

Clarke can be compassionate, and brave, and brilliant, but she makes the decisions she thinks are best, whether you agree or not.

It occurs to Raven now that the same way that Clarke was worried about the authenticity of her own feelings, Raven should be worried about them too.

She’s holding back tears now. “You know, most people probably think that a soulmate would be the one person who would never leave you. But you know what just occurred to me?” Raven sighs. “Maybe it’s just the one person who would feel obligated not to. And I think that’s worse than being completely alone.”

Clarke raises her hands up and places them on either side of Raven’s face.

Raven’s surprised, so she doesn’t pull away.

“You’re not alone,” Clarke says, clearly surprised that Raven would think that way. “You’re not,” she says again firmly. “And this is real,” she says. “I wish I told you earlier, I just—I got scared, and then I rationalized it, and I thought I was doing the right thing. The second I saw your face when I opened the door, I knew. I just didn’t want to keep it from you anymore, even if—“ Clarke hesitates.

Whatever Clarke feels, Raven realizes, it feels real to her.

She looks halfway heartbroken, and for the first time Raven steps outside of her own hurt, and sees Clarke clearly.

“When did you develop feelings for me?” Raven asks calmly, without judgment. Or, at least, as best as she can.

“I wasn’t sure if I even was,” Clarke says softly, her thumb caressing the side of Raven’s face. “But then you almost died, and I felt—I felt this fear that I’d never get the chance to figure it out. And then—and then you were looking at me the way that I was looking at you, and I knew.”

“So pretty recently then, huh?” Raven asks wryly.

Clarke nods. “Yeah.” She smiles slightly.

“I suppose,” Raven hesitates. “I suppose that’s not too bad. Forgivable, even.”

“I’ll take forgivable,” Clarke says, nodding her head.

“Okay,” Raven says, trying to center herself, and find some kind of inner stability.

Clarke just continues to meet her gaze, a slight, hopeful smile forming.

“If—“ Raven starts to say, “If you want to try to figure out what could be between us, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

“You wouldn’t be opposed to that?” Clarke smiles. “Neither would I.”

Clarke’s hands fall down, and Raven reaches for one, squeezing gently.

That’s enough for tonight. Clarke kisses her cheek, and Raven smiles. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Clarke says, and Raven feels hope burgeoning in her chest.

~~

Normally, Raven tries not to be too dramatic about the way she feels about people. She tries to keep it simple.

In the light of day, she’s surprised by how seriously she’d taken the whole thing with Clarke. But at the same time, she knows why she did.

When you care about someone, and you take a step that can fundamentally alter your relationship, you have to be sure.

You have to take it seriously, or it’s like the person doesn’t matter at all.

And Clarke is Raven’s friend.

And after the betrayal and the regret, all Raven wants is to follow through on the good things that came out of their conversation.

Her eyes feel clear, like she can see with perfect clarity.

Maybe she’s being silly, but everything seems brighter and sharper.

Maybe, she thinks, she’s just happy.

When Clarke comes down for breakfast, Raven just smiles her hello and focuses on eating her own, listening to the talk around the table.

They’re planning a surprise party for Monty’s birthday, since he’s out with his friend Jasper, and the day is right around the corner.

Raven doesn’t say much, because when she thinks of something, it’s soon said by someone else.

This doesn’t upset her—no, it pleases her.

Monty is their friend, and they _know_ him, and they want to do something nice for him.

Her heart aches with the desire to believe in this family of hers, in these people who love her(and these people she loves, truthfully).

And moments like these make her believe more than ever.

What, she thinks, could possibly be more wonderful than that?

Clarke takes her hand under the table for a moment, squeezing gently, and that feels pretty damn nice too.

~~

They watch a romantic comedy, just the two of them.

They’re _dating_.

She wouldn’t have expected this could possibly happen, but somehow this is her life.

They’re not even hanging out on the couch, wrapped around each other in that friendly, comforting way.

No, they’re serious tonight. They’re in an actual movie theater, eating overly expensive popcorn and keeping their voices at a low murmur so that they can discuss the film without disturbing the five other people in the audience.

The lack of other people is what makes this perfect, Raven thinks, so that there’s no stress or pressure, and they can just be themselves.

Raven keeps expecting awkwardness. She keeps waiting for something awful to rear its ugly head, but nothing does.

It’s fun.

After, when they go to dinner, that’s even better—they joke and laugh and smile lovely smiles at each other.

And after that, they go back to the Annex, and they kiss.

It’s explosive, though it’s meant to be a small peck, a gentle first date kiss.

Maybe they’re too far beyond that, Raven thinks, as she buries her hands in Clarke’s hair.

~~

The Mountain Men seem to be on a non-stop mission to destroy the world.

There’s the thing with the flying cows, and then the thing with the magic poison apples(yes, in the vein of Snow White), and then the thing with the quasi-vampires and—well, it’s a busy time, and the months fly by.

Nothing seems to slow down, and Raven’s not sure if the constant battles are a distraction or simply leading up to something bigger and more dangerous.

It unnerves Raven.

Something bad is going to happen, and she can feel it from her bottom to her top.

She watches Miller and Monty try to crack some sort of message that’s probably nothing at all, just like the last few hundred, and then turns to face the others.

They’re all frustrated—restless and tired.

They look how she feels.

~~

They have a fucking _doomsday device._

Because their experiments to create human remote controls for their doomsday plan had failed, apparently the Mountain Men had gone for plan b, which involves chaotically just destroying things and hoping for the worst.

Raven’s hands are deep in the machine, desperately trying to figure out a way to shut it down, and all she can think about is how much she hates these people.

They’re made up of scientists and mercenaries, and all they seem to care about is the most generic villain crap in the world.

They want power, and control, and the ‘betterment of science at all costs.’

Half their team has degrees in various science fields, but you don’t hear any of them spouting off about how they’re going to rule the world so that they can do massive science experiments on people.

She makes light of it, but the truth is that the Mountain Men terrify her as much as they piss her off.

“You can do it,” Monty says encouragingly in her ear, and she barely hears it.

Bellamy and Lincoln are fighting across the room, and Clarke and Wells are guarding Raven at the machine.

“Too bad I can’t just make it go _boom_ ,” Raven mutters. If Monty were here, this would be easier, but all he can do is provide a little advice and encouragement.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Monty says, laughing nervously.

She grunts a noncommittal response and focuses on the task at hand.

She looks over to see Clarke looking fiercely at anyone who looks like they might want to come anywhere near Raven.

Raven decides, in this moment, that if she doesn’t die, then she’ll tell Clarke that she loves her. Because in this intense, indescribable moment, she knows with complete certainty that she does.

“Raven,” Wells warns, because they’re running out of time.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Raven mutters.

It’s time to save the world.

~~

They deal the Mountain Men a great blow, but they’re still out there lurking, like the assholes they are, Raven thinks.

They can celebrate because the world didn’t end, but there’s still the chance it will one day soon, because the enemy is still out there.

Clarke slides down next to her, propping her legs up over Raven’s.

“Hey,” Clarke says softly, leaning her head against Raven’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Raven replies. “I see you escaped Bellamy’s retelling of this week’s episode of Time to Save the World from Total Destruction.”

Clarke chuckles. “Every time he retells it, he adds ten more men.”

“And Nate adds more weapons—last time I heard, he was talking about grenade launchers or something.”

“No,” Clarke says, “Really?”

Raven laughs, and Clarke turns her head slightly, so that they’re cheek to cheek.

“I love you,” Clarke says, and Raven’s breath hisses out in shock, and she has to remind herself to breathe.

“I love you too,” she says.

Soulmate or not, choice or chance, they’re in love.

 


End file.
